The Dragon Thief
by Zela von Drear
Summary: She is known as the fearless Dovahkiin. An expert thief, she walks with the shadows, and her red and black armor marks her as dark brotherhood. Now after spending her days in Riften, she heads to Markarth, meeting her housecarl, Argis the Bulwark He's a brilliant fighter, but will he risk betting on a woman who could be destined to die at the hands of a vengeful god.
1. Chapter 1

Note: I do not own Skyrim or its characters, only my own. everything that is not part of the quests is plot of my own creation

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><p>The cart rumbled and pale eyes opened, an ache on the back of her head. She had been crossing the border out of Skyrim, heading to the capitol in Cyrodiil. She had simply been crossing on her horse, heading towards greener, much less snowy pastures. She was trailing behind a party of Stormcloaks when the Imperials had attacked. They had shot her grey gelding out from under her. Her horse had panicked and had jumped off a small ravine. The last thing she remembered, she was flying out of the saddle and the ground was fast approaching. Now her leather armor had been stripped off and she was dressed in rags. They had stolen her bow and her swords. All her potion ingredients, all her gold, all her gems.<p>

She grumbled low in her throat, looking at the other prisoners around her. A blond man with bulging arms sat across from her, and another nord with dark hair in rags, with circles under his eyes. To her right sat Ulfric Stormcloak, the man who had killed high king Torygg. It was his fault that Skyrim had been plunged into a bloody civil war, turning neighbors and even brothers against one another, all over such a silly thing as being allowed to worship a god. She had been tossed into this damned cart because they were hunting Ulfric.

She hadn't been paying attention to the men across from her who were talking until she heard 'end of the line', looking up at the blond nord. "End of the line? The block then…" she said, frowning. Here she was, trying to leave Skyrim and head to the capitol, trying to find a way to make her fortune, and she was headed to the chopping block for a crime she didn't commit. Sure she had pinched the occasional apple, but for the most part, she had kept her nose clean.

The carts pulled to a stop, and they began to shuffle out of the cart. She hopped down, standing behind the rest of the men. Here she was, contemplating her imminent death when the horse thief from Rorikstead decided to make a run for it. At the signal from the archers, he was shot down. It looked like there was no hope of her making it out of here alive then. The first man was marched to the block, and he barked at the priestess of Arkay for her to shut up. Evidently, this man of Talos didn't want her only blessing him with eight divines. Within moments, his head was sitting in a basket and the block was stained with his blood.

"Next! The nord in the rags!" came the cry from the captain of the guard. A ghostly echo passed over the canyon, and everyone looked around. "I said; next prisoner" the captain called. She bowed her head and shuffled to the block, another echo passing through the mountains before she was shoved down to her knees. She turned her head and stared up at the headsman. A warrior should stare their killer in the face, and she was a warrior. But in her field of vision, a black monstrosity swooped from the sky, landing on the tower behind the headsman, the thundering crash knocking him down.

It was a dragon, huge and black, with eyes glowing red like two hot coals. He opened his mouth and words poured out, words that made her heart tremble as flaming rocks began falling from the sky. A stone struck her on the head, her vision swimming as the dragon took flight once more, letting out a bone chilling roar. Out of the fog, she heard a voice calling her, and she looked up, scrambling away from the block, her hands still bound. She blinked, trying to steady her vision as she followed him towards one of the towers. They had managed to get their hands free, but she was still tied up. She leaned against the wall and caught her breath.

"Come on, up these stairs, maybe there's a way out…" said the blond nord. She nodded, her vision clear now as she ran up the stairs with him. They were knocked back when the dragon took out part of the tower, gouts of fire streaming from its maw, burning the men who had been trying to clear the rubble. As quickly as it had come, it had also gone, and the blond told her to jump down to the burning inn below. "Are you mad?" she said, shaking her head. "It may be your only chance, now jump!" he said. She scowled and backed up, taking a running start, hitting the inn below with a grunt, almost twisting her ankle in the process. She jumped down to the lower floor and ran outside, seeing one of the imperial guards leading a boy to safety.

"Still alive prisoner? Follow me if you want to live…" he called, beckoning her to follow. Sure, the imperials had been trying to cut her head off, but she wanted to get out of here as badly as he did. It wasn't much further before they were in the keep, and the imperial turned to her, holding a knife.

"Come here, let's see if we can get these bindings off" He said, cutting off her bindings. She stepped back and rubbed her wrists, looking at the imperial soldier. "I'm Hadvar… I know the captain would want me to arrest you, but we have to find a way out of here together... look in the chests, see if you can find some armor…" he said. She rummaged through the chests, pulling two of the iron swords off the wall, tugging on the armor, strapping the sword to her hip. She focused for a moment, golden light swirling around her as she cast a healing spell, feeling the wound on her head close up.

"That's better…" she murmured to herself, turning to look at him. "I'm Ilena… and I didn't belong on that cart… I've done nothing wrong, I was just trying to make my way to Cyrodiil…" she said, summoning her magic and letting flames dance along her fingertips. "Now let's get out of here…" she said, looking at him before heading for the door, pulling the chain and walking through, drawing her sword.

They cut through a few Stormcloaks, as well as frost spiders and a bear. By the time they were out of the caverns, they were far from Helgen. They had pretty much passed all the way through the mountain, and they ended up near Riverwood. She had picked up a bow and some arrows along the way, the bow slung across her back. She was much more relaxed with a bow in her hand, even if it wasn't the best. "Thanks for getting me out of there…" she said, looking over at Hadvar, who nodded.

"Follow me to Riverwood, we'll see about getting you some supplies, since the soldiers raided your gear when they captured you… I know it hasn't been the best impression, but if you reconsider, the Legion could use good soldiers like you…" he said, extending his hand to her. She looked at his hand for a moment before shaking it briefly before they started the walk to Riverwood. She had lived in Falkreath her whole life, and hadn't traveled much, she figured it was time to get out into the world. She'd fought off bandits, but there were dragons on the loose now. She would travel Skyrim and make her way here instead.

As they reached the three standing stones, she looked between them. She already was a warrior, but bandits could always hear her coming. She tended to charge in and attack head on, which wasn't good since she favored a bow. She placed her hand on the thief stone, hoping this help from the gods might keep her from alerting every bandit she came across. Hadvar shook his head, and she looked back at him narrowing her eyes, but said nothing as they continued on the path.

Once they explained to Alvor what happened, Ilena was on her way to Whiterun, Hadvar staying behind to rest. She walked along the road, looking around her. It was a shame that she hadn't spent much time outside of falkreath, but she would change that. She was still young, only 21, and she had time to change that.

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><p>Thanks for reading, I'll update soon!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Five years had passed since Ilena walked into Whiterun, still young and untested. She had battled her way through Bleak Falls Barrow, fought off her first dragon. She had made her way to Winterhold, learning the skills of the mages, then to Riften, learning to walk with the shadows. Then to Falkreath, joining the dark brotherhood, using her skills as a thief to execute those who needed to die. She had visited every hold, made friends and enemies across Skyrim, but had not taken sides in this civil war. Everyone expected her to pick a side, but she held no loyalties to either. Her loyalties laid with herself. She left all her housecarls to hang around waiting for her, but now she made her way to Markarth, the city of silver.

As she walked through the doors, she looked around the city. She saw a flash of iron, and before the man could reach his target, the young woman looking at jewelry, her sword had met his flesh, and he laid dead on the ground, having screamed his allegiance to the foresworn before he drew his last breath. The woman thanked her, but she couldn't see past the Nightingale cowl. Ilena nodded, the guard thanking her for helping stop the foresworn before she headed up to the keep. She climbed the many stairs of Markarth, heading into the dwarven ruins. She climbed up towards the Jarl's throne, the steward approaching her.

"You stand in the presence of Jarl Igmund, you will show him the highest respect…" his steward said. She nodded, bowing her head. "Of course…" she said, stepping past the woman, walking up the steps and standing before the Jarl. She looked up at the older man. She saw his battle scars, and she knew he was a warrior like her. Perhaps with more honor though. She lost her innocence when assassins began to come after her when she helped the people of Skyrim. She bled for them, and when she stepped out of line, she was arrested. She finished playing by the rules a while ago, but it was good to be in the kind graces of the Jarl.

"Ilena, Dovahkiin, I have heard of your feats, and I have a request of you. The Forsworn stole my father's shield. I wish for you to retrieve it… if you can retrieve it for me, and aid the people of my hold, I will find a place for you in my court as Thane…" he said. Ilena wasn't fond of being sent on errands for lazy Jarls, but being in the good graces of the Reach would help her in the long run. She still needed training if she was to hope to defeat Alduin.

"Of course, my Jarl…" she said, standing and moving away from the throne, heading back down the stone steps, shaking her head. She made her way into the ruins to the side of the keep, looking around the old ruins, and old man rushing up to her.

"You cannot be here! There is very delicate work!" he cried, trying to shoo her away. She raised her hands in surrender, looking at him from inside her mask. "I'm looking to aid the peoples of Markarth, I would expect that the court Wizard would need aid with his ruins…" she said, looking at him from under her hood. Calcelmo backed off, apologizing profusely.

"Oh, my apologies… I have so many people attempting to poach my work…" he said, walking back over to his desk, strewn with papers, shuffling them into stacks, though it looked every bit as disorganized after, with bits of alchemical ingredients laying around, soul gems strewn all over the place.

"I sent a team into the ruins, but Nimhe kills any men I send in there… perhaps you could take care of her for me… a giant frost spider… I would consider it a personal favor…" he said. She sighed softly, nodding. She had slain dragons and trolls, ice wraiths and countless spiders. One more spider wasn't going to hurt her, even if it was the size of a horse. She was a fool to think it might be a challenge to help the people of Markarth. Every other hold, they wanted her to run simple errands around town, and this one was no different.

"You will need this key…." He said, shuffling through some more papers and pulling out a tired old key. It looked like skeevers had chewed on it, but if it worked, she would take it. She took the key, nodding to the Wizard. "It will be done" she said, turning away from the elderly man. She drew her ebony bow, a red glow crackling along it as she made her way towards the ruins, unlocking the giant door before slipping inside.

She nocked an arrow, crouching low, keeping her bow half drawn as she crept through the darkness. She could feel the dust in the air. Hardly anyone had walked these halls in years. It was musty, the walls dotted with webs. At least the spider would not be hard to find. She moved silently into the large chamber, seeing the mostly still figure of the spider. It was no larger than the one she had faced all those years ago in Bleak Falls Barrow, and she was much more skilled with her bow now. She crouched just out of sight of the beast, drawing her bow back, letting out a soft sigh as she did, lining up her shot carefully, as though it were one of her hits for the dark brotherhood. If she missed, she risked injury.

After a moment in the silence, she loosed her arrow, watching as it struck perfectly, imbedding itself deep in the one of the eyes of the beast, flames licking across the corpse as it crumpled to the ground. Now that it was dead, she could relax. She walked up to the beast, pulling her arrow out, wiping it off before adding it back to her quiver, heading back out of the ruins much faster than she entered. She no longer had to move silently after all. As she exited the ruins, she saw Calcelmo look up with an almost surprised look on his face. She nodded to him as she came up to his workstation. "The beast is dead…" she said, looking at him from under her cowl. The elder man smiled, nodding his head enthusiastically.

"I knew you could do it… thank you for your help, Dragon born" he said, taking out another key and passing it to her. "A key, to my Dwemer Museum. It is not yet finished, but I would want you to come see it, a seasoned traveler such as yourself…" he said. Ilena nodded, tucking the key into her pack. She doubted she would have time for a dusty museum filled with the things she had to fight as she made her way through ruins, but it might prove useful later. She'd already been in and out of that museum, before she even knew Calcelmo. She had just been a passing shadow then, just searching for the Falmer translation.

She made her way out of the keep and down the many stairs to the Silver Blood Inn. She could use a drink or two, and she needed to secure a place to sleep for the night. Gold wasn't a problem for her, but she disliked staying at inns frequently. Sure, on the road she could just find a secluded glen and bring out a sleeping roll, but in the middle of a city, she was expected to find a bed. They usually stank and made her itch, but she supposed the innkeepers were cheap with replacing the straw if it got damp.

As she made her way into the bar, she was stopped by a man in rags. He stank of ale, and it looked like his teeth were rotting out of his head. "Hey… How about a septim? Wait, make that two septims. I feel like living it up." He slurred, holding out his hand to her. She sighed and pulled a couple coins from the pouch on her hip, placing them in his grimy hand, shaking her head as he told her to shoo now. She found a seat at one of the tables, taking off her cowl and running her hands through her dark hair.

After a drink and a hot meal, she paid her gold for a room and made her way back, closing the door behind her and letting out a sigh as she looked at the stone bed, frowning. Markarth was a city of stone, but surely they didn't all sleep on rocks. She pulled her bedroll out of her pack, laying it down on the stone slab. She shed her armor and climbed onto the hard bed, closing her eyes and sighing. She still had 3 more people of Markarth to help, and then she would go fetch that bloody shield. Really, a shield. She would understand if it was enchanted, or made of gold, but she guessed it was just for sentimental reasons for the Jarl. With that, she sighed again, leaning over and blowing out the candle at her bedside, the room fading into darkness as she let herself relax and finally fall asleep.

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><p>The next day had proved to be rather boring, running all over Markarth, trying to do these silly errands for the townspeople. They couldn't just walk across town to deliver a ring, or talk to someone else. Oh no, they needed the Dragonborn to do it for some insane reason. Why was it that people always thought that she had nothing but spare time on her hands, and wanted to help everyone? Ilena was just in it for the house. Markarth was a grand city, and upon becoming thane, she would buy a house in the city, if only so that she would have a place to stay when her travels brought her here.<p>

It was midday when she finished packing up her things, stocking up on a few extra potions before she was headed to Red Eagle Redoubt to kill the foresworn leader, and then off to Bleakwind Bluff to recover that damned shield. It wasn't the easiest task she'd had to do to become thane, but not the worst. Luckily she knew that mountain a bit, and the two places would be about an hour's walk apart. As she made her way along the road, she encountered a few bandits, which she made quick work of, wiping her sword on the shirt of the last one. She didn't want the blood to tarnish her fine blade after all.

At Red Eagle Redoubt, she felled as many as she could manage with her bow, putting it away to favor her sword, ice from the blade spreading over each of her adversaries as she cut them down, leaving frozen bodies on the ground in her wake. The last enemy was one she had faced before. A briarheart. They were notoriously difficult to kill. Undead, kept living by a myriad of spells, but they would crumple if you could get the heart out of their chest. She sheathed her ice sword and drew the one that was enchanted with fire, watching as the flames licked across the blade. Steeling herself, she crept as close as she could without it noticing before she lunged.

By the time she managed to get the heart out of its chest, it had managed a few strikes on her. She could feel the bruises on her sides and arms, sinking down on a rock and rummaging through her pack for her potions. A few healing potions and a stamina potion later, she was feeling much better, though she knew it was no substitution for visiting a healer. If she was bleeding inside though, the potions would keep her injuries in check for now.

Another hour, the sun was beginning to sink in the sky, but she had reached Bleakwind Bluff. She managed to take out most of the sentries with her bow, but a few evaded her arrows. As they charged her with their swords drawn, they were no match for her blade, wielding a sword in her right hand, pouring gouts of flame from her left, a couple landed a hit, but it was nothing she couldn't take. Getting the shield wasn't too difficult, but now she had to trek back 4 hours to Markarth, and she wouldn't reach it by nightfall.

She walked along the road, limping a little from a large bruise to her leg that one of the foresworn had managed to land on her. She had used up all but one of her potions, and after fighting off 30 or so foresworn, she was tired, her exhaustion preventing her from being able to heal herself with magic. As she trekked back to the city, she heard a familiar sound ringing over the mountains. A Dragon had spotted her from the air, and it would be a fight. She gritted her teeth, drawing her bow and looking around, only to have a massive bronze Elder Dragon land behind her.

She could feel the flames of its shout engulf her, sending pain through her body. She staggered back, rolling to the side to avoid being burned again, summoning that strength inside her that burned like fire, the powers of the dragon that her blood granted her. "KRII LUN AUS!" she barked, the thu'um bursting from her mouth with a wave that knocked the dragon back. She could sense its weakness, now that she had marked it for death. She would not be felled now, not by another silly dragon. She had lost count of how many of Alduin's kin she had slain, and this one would be another in a large number to her.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!" she roared, feeling the flames pour from her mouth, the dragon letting out a roar of anger as it turned, swiping at her with his barbed tail, which she rolled away from. She loosed a few arrows into its side, but it didn't do much other than annoy the beast. With the last of her strength, she called on the thu'um that she had learned with the scroll, dragonrend.

"JOOR ZAH FRUL" she shouted, her own thu'um making her stagger as the blue light wrapped itself around the dragon, keeping it bound to the earth, making it taste mortality as she drew her twin swords of ice and fire, letting out a fearsome roar as she charged at it. Its claws tore at her, and she managed to avoid its teeth before she leapt atop the dragons head, holding onto its horn as it tried to toss her off before she sunk her blade into its head, feeling the great beast below her shudder before it collapsed. She jumped off, stumbling back as she watched the dragon close its eyes, letting out a mournful sound as it died, its body returning to ash. Its soul rushed towards her body, and the force of it entering her knocked her to the ground.

She had never asked to be Dragonborn, the natural enemy of dragons. She held the soul of a dragon inside her body, and she slayed them as though they were common beasts. A part of her mourned for every dragon she killed, since they knew something that no other being could understand about her. Perhaps it was the part that was a dragon that hated killing them, but if they just left her and the world alone, she wouldn't have to. She leaned against a rock, catching her breath, pressing her had to her side, pulling it back to see blood, sighing as she pulled out her last healing potion and downed it. It tasted like mud, but it would keep her from bleeding out until she got to a healer.

With that, she stood shakily, gritting her teeth against the pain as she continued her trek back to Markarth, limping worse now. She reached the keep, climbing the many steps to the Jarl's palace. The laid the shield at Jarl Igmund's feet, seeing him smile broadly.

"You have done well, Dovahkiin… I name you as thane of Markarth, and grant you permission to buy property in my hold… just speak to my steward…" he said, waving her off, stepping away from his throne, presumably to go to bed. She turned to the steward, who looked none too pleased that she had to sell land to Ilena now.

"If you wish to buy a home in Markarth, we have Vlindrel Hall available…" she said, looking over the dirty and tired form of the dragonborn. The steward wasn't a fan of mercenaries, and this 'dragonborn' looked like nothing more than a common thug in fancy armor.

Ilena nodded, pulling out one of her larger bags of gold. "I will take it, and I will pay to furnish it as well…" she said, the steward nodding. With her pack much lighter of gold, Ilena turned away from the other woman, now having the key to her new home.

"My thane, about your housecarl…" the steward said as Ilena walked away, the dragonborn waving her hand dismissively. "I don't care who it is…I'm too tired to care…" she said, heading out of the keep and down the many stairs to the main plaza, then back up again to her new home. She unlocked the door and pushed it open with a grunt, not taking much time to look around. She headed straight for the master bedroom, peeling off her blood-soaked armor, putting a salve on the wound, bandaging her side up before climbing into the bed. Thank Nocturnal that it wasn't stone. Even with the torches burning, she fell asleep right away, exhaustion taking her over. She slept well that night, better than most nights, safe in the stone walls of her new home.

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><p>Thanks for reading! I aim to add another chapter shortly<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Argis had spent the day training new recruits for the guard. It was shameful how few of them knew how to properly swing a sword, and they ended up with more bruises than he did, even with blunted blades. He wasn't looking to continuing training with those bird brains. Scared boys who wanted to fight dragons, but could barely summon the strength to draw a bow. He sat in the Silver Blood Inn with a flagon of mead, not paying much attention to the chatter around him. He wasn't much one for talking.

"Did you hear? The Dragonborn retrieved Hrolfdir's Shield?" one woman said to the bartender, who nodded. "She was in town today, helping out the towns people. It's nice to see someone high up helping the common man" the bartender commented. A few others around the bar chimed in about how the Dragonborn had helped them. The general consensus seemed that the Dragonborn was, while not one of many words, a good person.

Argis had heard only that the Dragonborn was a woman from Falkreath who had spent many years in Riften and Winterhold, learning magic and sleight of hand. Of course there were other rumors, that the Dragonborn would turn into a dragon on the full moon, or that her bite was poisonous, or that under her armor she had scales. All nonsense in his mind. What he knew of the Dragonborn, they were just mortals who were chosen by Akatosh. They possessed the soul of a dragon, but no scales or wings. He was taking a long draught of mead when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. By now they should know not to bother him while he was drinking, but as he turned, he saw the Jarl's steward, a frown forming on his face.

"What does Jarl Igmund ask of me now?" he said, standing up before the small redguard woman, looking down at her with his one good eye. "The Jarl summons you to his palace… immediately…" she said, gesturing towards the door. Argis frowned and knocked back the rest of his mead, putting a septim on the counter and heading out the door, much to his displeasure, the steward following him. Probably making sure he went. Truth be told, he was none too pleased that the Jarl was summoning him. It would be another fool's errand against the foresworn, like the one that had cost him his left eye, he knew it.

As he climbed the many steps to the keep, he wondered what the Jarl would want with him so late in the evening. Igmund, while he used to be a grand fighter, had grown indulgent in his power, late to wake in the mornings and early to bed in the nights, with nothing but the best meals in between. It had been quite a while since Argis had seen him lift a sword, and he thought the Jarl was growing a bit round in the middle, but it was not his place to say. As he approached the throne, he bowed, looking up at his Jarl and waiting for the man to speak.

"Argis the Bulwark… thank you for coming at such a late hour, but I have a task for you" Jarl Igmund said, a small smirk on his face. Argis refrained from frowning or sighing, and just nodded. Of course it would be a task. Something dangerous and taxing, and he'd almost lose a hand or a leg or another key body part. "Argis, you have been a good soldier and a fine trainer for the new recruits, but your time in the guard has reached its end..." the Jarl said, studying the man who knelt before him, waiting for his reaction. Argis had not been expecting that. He had been a soldier since he was old enough to swing a sword, loyal to the reach all his life, and he was being let go.

"Instead, you will be housecarl to the new owner of Vlindrel Hall… the Dragonborn retrieved my father's shield, and aided my hold, and she now resides in Vlindrel Hall… you will be her housecarl… you will obey as though her orders came directly from me…" Igmund said, looking down at Argis sternly. Argis had never been the best at following orders, but at least he had been a good soldier. Now he was being sent off to play house with the Dragonborn. He would be her servant, and the idea made his blood boil. He was no one's servant, not even to the Dragonborn.

"As you command, my Jarl…" he said through clenched teeth. He just wanted to punch something. What had he done to deserve this punishment, it didn't seem he would ever know. "I will clear out my bed at the barracks…" he said, bowing once more the Jarl. The steward handed him a key before sending him on his way, the Jarl heading back to his chambers now that his work was done for the night. On his way to the barracks, Argis fumed, stomping through Markarth. Those who were still out moved out of his way quickly. Argis did not anger easily, but he was fuming. You could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

At his bunk, he gathered his things, his armor and weapons, his books and potions, shoving them into a large rucksack. He left the bedding, since it was not his, but he hoped that the Dragonborn didn't make him sleep on the floor. By the time he had packed all his possessions, his rage had faded somewhat, and he was more resigned to his fate. He was 31, he had a blind spot while fighting, literally, and maybe it was time for life to slow down a bit. As he headed up the steps towards Vlindrel Hall, he couldn't help but wonder if life would have been different for him if he had followed his mother's advice, found a nice woman and moved away from Markarth the first chance he got, instead of joining the ranks of the soldiers like his father wanted him to. Maybe instead of half blind and war torn, he could have been sitting by a warm fire with a wife a couple of kids on his lap. The life of a blacksmith was simple, like his father's life had been, but he thought he would have been bored with that. Fighting was in his blood.

He pushed open the door of Vlindrel Hall, looking around. Everything looked brand new, new plates and pots and pans, a fire blazing in every fireplace. The steward and her men must have prepared it for the Dragonborn not but a few hours ago. He looked around a little, finding the spare bedroom off to the side, frowning when he saw the rather small bed that was provided for the housecarl. His feet might hang off the end of that little bed. He sighed and dropped his sack down at the foot of his bed, starting to put his things away in various drawers and cabinets, changing out of his armor into a more comfortable tunic. He didn't expect he'd be doing any fighting for a while. He polished his armor and tucked it away, as well as his sword, heading out into the common area, looking around. Over to the side, he saw the master bedroom, and the figure of who he assumed was the Dragonborn curled up on the bed.

He knew he shouldn't be snooping around, but quietly he stepped into the room, looking down at the sleeping form of the Dragonborn. The dark red warpaint around her eyes masked her features a bit, and it made her look intimidating, as though she was scowling even as she slept. She was fair skinned, but from what he could see, she was scarred by battle, two very prominent scars on her face, one by her mouth, and one under her right eye. She had a mouth and nose that were softer than the rest of her features, with her high cheekbones and strong jawline. As he studied her, he thought that perhaps she would have been beautiful if she had not been ravaged by battle in the same way that he was. She wasn't the small woman he was expecting, with her broad shoulders and long legs. He blew out the lanterns so that the light wouldn't bother his new Thane before stepping out of the room and closing the door almost all the way. He had seen the bandage on her side, and if she needed help he would be there to assist. It was his duty after all.

He headed back to his room, closing his door and blowing out the lanterns, laying on his small bed in the darkness. He could fit if he laid on his side and curled his legs a bit, but lying flat on his back his feet just barely hung over the edge. He would have to speak to the Dragonborn about that later that morning.

He woke the next day feeling a bit stiff from lying on the awkwardly small bed, getting up and stretching. His back popped in a few places, as did his neck when he rolled it from side to side. Maybe he should sleep on the floor that night instead of that tiny bed. He made his way into the kitchen, raking the last few coals in the fireplace, adding kindling and firewood until the warm glow radiated throughout the room. Markarth was a fine city, but without a fire going, there was a certain chill to the homes that didn't lend to strength.

He went about taking stock of what they had in the kitchen, figuring he would make a stew. They would be able to eat that for a few days while he learned some new recipes. He would be cooking for two now, and his usual meals of meat and bread probably wouldn't suit the Dragonborn. He stood at the table dicing the vegetables, cutting a large hunk of beef into smaller, bite sized chunks, a pot of water bubbling over the flames. Hopefully it would turn out well, he would not want the Dragonborn to dislike his cooking. If she was to be living here for most of her days, he would want to be a good cook for her at the very least.

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><p>Ilena woke with pain in her head and body, groaning softly to herself and rolling over. She would have to deal with that wound on her side later, and she was sure she was covered in bruises from her long day of fighting. She sat up slowly, the morning fog in her mind clearing as she heard noises coming from inside her house. A crackling fire, someone moving around in the kitchen. She had spent enough time as an assassin to know that an uninvited guest in your home could surely spell death. She slid from her bed silently, grabbing an ebony dagger from her pack, crouching as she slipped out of her room.<p>

There was a tall blonde man in her kitchen chopping vegetables, as it seemed, but by now she knew not to trust anyone. Maybe he saw her waking and began this ruse as to calm her instincts. She crept up behind him, her bare feet moving silently on the cold stone. She stood up behind the man, placing the tip of her dagger at his neck, her free hand grabbing his hair and yanking his head back, her pale blue eyes meeting the surprised golden brown eye of the man she was currently threatening.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my home…speak quickly, I am not a patient woman…" she growled out, digging the tip of the dagger into his skin, narrowing her eyes as she looked at him, her brow furrowed. Argis had not been expecting the metal against his throat or the hand twisting into his hair, tugging him backwards and off balance. He laid the knife down carefully, looking over his shoulder at the woman behind him. It seemed the Dragonborn wasn't expecting him. He hadn't even heard her breath as she snuck up on him. She moved like shadow, and he had no doubt she was as skilled an assassin as she was a thief.

"Argis the Bulwark… The Jarl has assigned me to be your housecarl…I live here, take care of the home, cook, clean… if you require it of me, I will guard your side as you travel as well… now will you get that blade off my neck…" he said, looking back at her. Like he had expected, she was intimidating with her sharp features, her delicate mouth twisted into a snarl. For a moment, he wondered if it would be his last, but then he was released, the feeling of her pressed against his back and the knife at his throat was gone. He turned, and she was already a few feet from him. She laid the dagger down on the table, looking at him.

"Sorry about that, I never know these days who is trying to kill me…" she said. The adrenaline in her system had started the blood flowing to her wound again, and the bandage was quickly staining red with her blood. Even with sleep, she still felt weak. She made her way to the alchemy lab, rummaging through the potions until she found one for healing. It would close the wound for now. She uncorked it and knocked it back, grimacing at the taste, feeling her wound begin to close. She grabbed a magicka potion, knocking that back as well, feeling the spark of her magic grow brighter. She closed her eyes and a golden light erupted from her hands, swirling around her, pouring into her side, her skin glowing for a moment before the light faded.

She took the bandage off, lifting her shirt to see only smooth skin there. It seems like all she had needed was rest to deal with this wound. A trip to the healer wouldn't be necessary after all. She looked up, seeing her new housecarl staring at her. She frowned a bit and tugged her shirt down. She walked back to the kitchen, grabbing an apple out of a barrel, sitting down at the table and taking a bite, still keeping her eyes on him. She wasn't sure how she felt about having a male housecarl. Sure, in her youth she had made doe eyes at a few boys, but since the attack at Helgen, men had only seemed like an unnecessary distraction to her. Sure, some were good for relieving her 'tension', but she had never seen the point in keeping one around for more than a night or two.

Argis had no skill with magic, and seeing that golden light pour out of her hands and stitch her skin back together was something new to him. That had been a huge gash, enough to kill anyone, but with a couple potions and some magic, she seemed as good as new. "What gave you that injury?" he asked as he was chopping onions for the stew.

She smirked a little before taking a bite out of her apple. "A dragon… I'd spent the day killing foresworn, and I was in no shape to be fighting a dragon… it got a couple good blows on me, that being the worst…" she said, watching as he chopped the veggies, the pot over the fire already bubbling with some potatoes and carrots in it, the meat already in as well. She had to admit, it did smell good, and she usually only had very simple meals. "Making stew?" she said, looking at his cooking before taking another bite of her apple.

He nodded, taking the chopped onions over to the pot, putting them in and stirring it. "I'm not the best cook, but it won't kill you" he said, giving her a small smile, trying to make a joke. "Truthfully, I don't know why I was made your housecarl. My cooking and cleaning skills are limited, I've spent my time up until now as a warrior… if you ever need someone to fight at your side, I'm your man." He said, taking a seat across from her at the table, where he could still reach over and stir the stew if needed.

Ilena took another bite of her apple, nodding a bit as she pondered the idea of traveling with a companion again. Her last follower had been Lydia, but there was a certain point where she had found herself worrying for the safety of her Whiterun housecarl. She had sent Lydia home and continued on her own. Her followers didn't seem to last more than a few months, with the sellsword Mjoll the Lioness lasting almost 10 months before the work became too dangerous for that one-time fee and she headed back to Whiterun, leaving Ilena alone again. Of course, she didn't mind too much, she was used to being alone by now, but she was proficient in sneaking and with her bow. Argis seemed like the type of man who charged in head first, sword drawn, cutting down those in his path. Perhaps she could use a strong fighter at her side to balance out her lack of training in hand to hand combat. She was good, but being up close and personal always seemed to get her injured.

"I think I may spend the day to rest and get used to the house, but I have business to attend to all across Skyrim. I suppose I will be in need of a traveling companion…" she mused, taking another bite of her apple, glancing at him. She let herself smirk when he seemed to perk up at the idea of traveling. She could tell that he wasn't cut out for a domestic life, but then again neither was she. She didn't tend to stay in one place for a long time, but she liked this house, though it was a bit out of the way, far from other cities, and she was always running into dragons in these mountains. Sure Markarth itself was safe, but the roads were filled with bandits and foresworn.

"I will be honored to travel at your side, my Thane…" Argis replied, not able to help himself as he sat up a little straighter at the idea of traveling again. He had always wanted to see more of Skyrim. He had meant to see the other holds, but he had always been busy with some task for the Jarl, or training the new recruits. Now it seemed he might get to see Skyrim in its entirety if he was traveling with the Dragonborn.

Ilena bristled a bit at her title, never having liked being addressed as such. "Please… just call me Ilena… I hate titles, especially when I did so little to earn it… I'd prefer if we were equals…" she said. It was worth a shot, her other housecarls always seemed to insist on treating her different anyway. Hopefully this one would listen. Argis nodded at her request. He didn't want to have to bow down to her, and it seemed she didn't want to be bowed to anyway. Maybe he had been too dismal about this job. She seemed like a reasonable woman, and getting out and fighting again would be enjoyable.

She stood and tossed her apple core in the compost barrel, looking at him. "Well, just let me know when the stew is done… I have some reading I need to catch up on…" she said, heading back to her room. She had collected some books in her travels, and if the college of Winterhold had taught her anything, it was that knowledge was power, and she read every bit of knowledge she could get her hands on. Argis nodded, but then remembered his bed predicament. He went to her room and knocked on the door before opening it and sticking his head in.

"My Th…Ilena… the bed in the housecarl's quarters is much too small for me… if you have some free time, perhaps you could get me a larger bed?" he asked, seeing her chuckle a little bit. "Of course Argis…" she said, turning back to her book. He went back to the kitchen, pondering his new life as she read her books. At least things wouldn't be too boring around here, not with the Dragonborn at his side, and all of Skyrim ahead of him.

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><p>Thanks for reading! I will continue to update as promptly as possible, but muse comes and goes after all.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Argis was sprawled on his bed, having been given a much larger one. Sure, it took up most of his small room, but he could stretch out on the bed and not worry about his feet hanging off the bed. You could sleep three comfortably in that bed, but he managed to find a way to take up the whole space, his body diagonal, legs spread, one arm curled around his pillow, his long hair falling into his face as he snored softly. He was having a wonderful dream.

He had slain his first dragon single handedly, and the Dragonborn was so pleased with him that she had treated him to as much mead as he could drink. He lounged in one of the natural hot springs of Markarth, a mug in his hand as soft lute music played. He relaxed with his eyes closed, groaning softly as he felt soft lips trailing along the skin of his neck, hands sliding along his chest. Those hands trailed lower and a body pressed up close to his. He set his mead down and curled his arms around the form that was pressed so close to his.

He opened his eyes, smiling down at the ebony haired Dragonborn. Her war paint was washed off, and without it she was rather pretty. She looked up at him with a sexy smile, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She pulled back, looking at him with half closed bedroom eyes, smirking a bit. "Wake up…" she whispered, reaching up and caressing his cheek with her hand, leaning in close. "Argis… wake up…" she said, her lips less than an inch from his.

A shove jolted the blond nord from his dream, making him open his eyes with surprise, looking up to see the face of the Dragonborn, illuminated by a candle, staring at him with those icy blue eyes. He growled a bit and sat up, pulling the blankets up a bit as he looked at her. "Damn you woman, what is it…" he grumbled, rubbing his face. He had a good internal clock, and he could tell the sun had not yet risen over the mountains in the east. He had certainly been affected by that dream of his, but he didn't want her to know that.

Ilena frowned at her sleepy housecarl as he sat up and glowered at her, sighing and depositing a bag at the food of his bed, the sack clicking with the sounds of shifting armor. "I had some armor made for you… if you'll be traveling with me, you'll need more than iron protecting you…" she said, looking at him as he reached down and pulled the bag closer, untying the string and looking in, frowning as he pulled out an ebony helm.

"Ebony? You had ebony armor made for me?" he said, looking at her with a confused look on his face. She nodded, gesturing to the bag. "Yes, I noticed you favored the short sword, shield, and bow, so I had them made for you… I go to very dangerous places, fighting dragons, trolls, giants, and hordes of the undead, and I won't be responsible for your death as well…" she said, leaving the candle on his bedside.

"Get that armor on…I have a bag packed for you, we head for Dawnstar as soon as you're ready to go…" she said, heading back to her own room and pulling on her own armor. The Nightingale's armor was strong, but she had suffered that debilitating wound with it. It was spectacularly crafted, but it was still only leather, and she needed more protection than that. It was lucky that she had saved up all those bones and scales from the dragons she had slain, enough to make herself a set of dragon scale armor. She wasn't used to something so heavy, even though it was lighter than the lightest of the heavy armors, but she had to admit, it had a certain flare to it. She was the Dragonborn after all, and though it was a bit morbid, wearing armor as tough as dragon hide was rather fitting.

She strapped her new sword to her side, slinging her bow over her shoulders and shouldering her pack. It would be a few days walk to Dawnstar, she had plenty of food in their packs, as well as bed rolls for the two of them, some gold to get them by, and some potions just in case one of them got seriously injured. She was at the kitchen table when Argis emerged from his room, and she smirked a little as she looked him over. He looked sharp in that Ebony armor, and he looked like a hero one would hear tales about. She stood up, looking at him from under her helmet. "Alright… let's go…" she said, passing him his backpack and heading for the door.

"We'll be traveling on foot, staying off the beaten trails… I may be the Dragonborn, but I have my fair share of enemies…" she said, looking back at him as he put on his Ebony helm, shielding most of his face from her. Pity, he was nice to look at, in a rugged sort of way. Argis nodded, slinging his pack over his shoulders, tightening his belt, not yet used to the much finer armor he was now wearing. It would take a day or two to settle in and break it in. the armor was finely crafted, and the ebony mail beneath was very light. It didn't feel like he was wearing enough armor, but he had no doubt it would be stronger than the iron armor he wore before.

The day was spent hiking down the mountains, staying off the roads. They had to kill a few wolves and a bear, but it was nothing that the two of them couldn't handle. Ilena had spotted the wolves from a distance and handled them with her bow, but the bear had been on the ridge above them. She would have been mauled, but Argis charged in head first with his shield, swinging at the bear as she peppered it with arrows. They felled it after a few minutes without any injuries and continued on their way. Ilena admired his style, she had never been as good at hand to hand, or sword to sword. She preferred to stand back and pelt then with arrows or gouts of fire than be up close, and Argis could cover the up close parts while she stood back and helped. It would certainly make dealing with bandits easier.

By the time that night was falling, they had found a cave and set up their bedrolls, Ilena having built them a descent fire pit, letting flames from her magic set the wood ablaze. Ilena sat back on her bedroll, pulling off her boots and stretching her feet, lounging back and letting out a sigh, looking over at the hulking nord who was her new companion. "So Argis… we haven't talked much today… tell me about yourself… what did you do wrong to get stuck with the murderous, thieving Dovahkiin…" she said, taking her helmet off and lounging back on her arms, looking at him across the fire.

Argis had avoided speaking as much as possible that day. He was fine hiking for hours and hours, killing bears and wolves. He was fine with training new soldiers and killing foresworn. Delving into a personal conversation with the woman who he had just met who had already wormed her way into his dreams. He had been avoiding looking at her all day long, and now she was looking at him across the fire with half lidded eyes like he had seen in his dream. She still had the war paint, and her gaze was both stern and inquisitive, with none of the smolder from his dream.

He cleared his throat and looked at the flames. "There's not much to tell… I was born and raised in Markarth, the son of the local apothecary and healer… My father was disappointed when I grew up to be a soldier, he wanted me to take over the store and I wanted to bash bandits with my shield." He said, smirking a little to himself. "I joined the guard, spent my time slaying bandits and forsworn until 6 years ago, the first truly organized group of foresworn attacked the city. They made it through the gates, killed and burned anything they could, including my parents, and they thought they had killed me too. They only got my eye though…" he said, looking at her again. "Ever since I've been helping train recruits and growing increasingly bored… I think the Jarl appointed me as your housecarls because he thinks I'm getting too old to be out fighting…" he said, his last words an angry growl.

Ilena looked at him from across the fire, raising one of her dark brows as she studied him. "So you were given to me because the Jarl thinks you can't fight anymore?" she said, shaking her head. "Jarl Igmund is more of a fool than I thought he was then…" she said, shaking her head and looking at him from across the fire. "You are gifted at close combat, and you're built like a mountain… even with one eye you're a good fighter, I can certainly see that" she said, grabbing her water skin and taking a few gulps, digging around to find some dried meat, chewing on it thoughtfully as she looked at him. She swallowed and smirked a little. "I'm glad the Jarl gave you to me, most of the other housecarls are useless…" she said, taking another bite of her food.

Argis shrugged, but smiled a little. It felt good to be appreciated so long after feeling like he was stuck in the same old routine. It had been good to get out for the day, to get fresh air and feel the rush of adrenaline fighting off a bear. Of course he would have difficulty keeping his thoughts in check. The dream from last night had faded somewhat, but that didn't mean that part of him didn't find her attractive. A little part of him was afraid of her, with that knife to his throat in seconds, but he had a feeling that her silence would come in handy. Part of him admired her and her unique fighting skill, as well as her proficiency with a bow. Part of him respected her as a warrior and as the Dragonborn. And part of him wanted to pin her down and ravish her. He'd had his fair share of rolls in the hay with the occasional maid, but she didn't seem like a maid. If he somehow managed to get into her bed, he wouldn't be leaving in the morning, and he would have to see her again afterwards.

He had to suppress those feelings from now on. He wasn't cut out for a long term relationship, and certainly not with his boss. Even if she wanted them to be equals, he was still following her around the country, at her beck and call, sworn to serve and protect her. He knew what she was after though, he had heard the myths and rumors. She was training in her quest to kill Alduin, but there was a very likely chance that she would fail. Why should he bet on a woman who would ride off to Sovngarde and probably never return? He would travel with her until she no longer had any need of him, and he would keep his desires in check.

"Thanks… I thought he sent me to you to get old and die, but clearly traveling with you will kill me long before I go silver…" he said, chuckling, lying down on his bedroll and closing his eyes, trying to settle into the thin mat that was between him and the ground. He supposed he would have to get used to traveling around. It seemed like they would be traveling far and wide, but he'd rather die in battle than in bed and gray, weakly gasping for his last breath.

She smirked a little and laid back on her own bedroll, stretching and settling into the furs, yawning and shutting her eyes. "We'll at least get you some new scars before you kick it…" she teased, rolling onto her side, her sword in easy reach of her hand. "Get some sleep Argis, we'll be up at dawn again…" she said, settling into the furs before letting herself drift off to the soft sound of the fire crackling nearby.

"Goodnight Ilena…" he rumbled, looking forward to another long day of walking at her side as he rolled onto his side, closing his eyes and settling into sleep, hoping that if he did dream that night, he wouldn't talk in in sleep. That would be too embarrassing to live down.

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><p>Ilena woke as the sun started to stream into the cave, finding that her breath had frosted on the furs overnight, brushing the crystals off her bed roll before sitting up, pulling on her leather armor over her linen undershirt, climbing out of bed to pull on her boots and gloves as well, pulling on her hood. She tucked her hair back into her hood and pulled up a scarf over her nose and mouth. It was mid Frostfall, they should expect the days to get colder and the frost to start creeping in for the winter.<p>

She packed up her gear, banking the coals and getting a small iron pot from her pack, tossing in some black tea leaves, a bit of mint, some blue mountain flowers and some wheat. It would help give them a boost for the long hike ahead of them. She looked over at the sleeping nord on the other side of the fire, smiling a little bit as she poured the tea into a wooden cup. She sat down at his side, shaking his shoulder gently, brushing his hair out of his rugged face, her eyes lingering on his scar. He was scarred, just like she was, and she had a feeling that people looked at him the same way they looked at her, like they were damaged, somehow less than others.

"Argis… wake up… we've got to get going…" she said, squeezing his shoulder and shaking him gently, smiling underneath her cowl as he stirred, blinking sleepily. He growled at her and pressed his face into the bedroll, not wanting to wake up yet. She just sighed and shook him again, a bit less gently. "Come on you big lump…" she grumbled, pinching his cheek lightly before going back to shaking him rhythmically until he opened his eyes and sat up. He frowned at her and grabbed the cup, sipping it and hunching over, grasping the cup with both hands and blinking slowly.

"Why do we have to wake up so early…" he grumbled at her, getting up after he finished the tea, pulling on his armor, stretching stiffly and rolling up his matt, clearly grumpy at being woken so early. He hadn't been plagued by dreams, his mind had been too focused on resting to do so, but it didn't help that here she was making tea for him and gently waking him up. She packed away the pot and wooden cups into her pack, rolling up her matt as well, looking at him as she shouldered her backpack, strapping on her sword and bow, smiling at him from under her cowl.

"We have to get up early because we have a very long day of walking ahead of us… if we want to get to Morthal tomorrow, we have to keep up a good pace like yesterday…" She said, looking at him. Argis growled and sighed, shaking his head a little bit. He pulled on his pack, strapping on his sword, chewing on a bit of dried meat as they stepped out of the cave and into the morning sun. Frost had gathered on the grass and blades, and it seemed that winter was already setting in. cue the whirling snowstorms of a Skyrim winter.

They hiked until midday when they reached a stream, Ilena sinking down on a large boulder, taking off her pack and fishing out an apple and a hunk of cheese, relaxing by the stream. For now, it was peaceful, no dragon attacks, no bandits, no one trying to kill her. It was a nice change from the daily back and forth of fighting and trying to do good things for the rather ungrateful people of Skyrim. She chewed on her apple, watching as Argis soaked his feet in the stream, raking her eyes over him. It was such a pity, he was just her type. Long hair, handsome chiseled features, broad shoulders, and that voice. Oh his low rumbling voice. If she had to pick someone to take home for a night, it would have been a man just like him, but the problem was that he was her housecarl, not a one night stand.

She took another bite of her apple and turned her head, looking out into the forest. No use in wishful thinking. She had training to do, shouts to learn, skills to perfect, and an angry dragon god that she had to find a way to kill. Sure, she knew dragonrend, but she wasn't ready to face Alduin. She wasn't sure she would really ever be ready to stare down those angry red eyes and either meet death, or overcome it. There wasn't time for romance in her busy life of murder, thievery, and dragon attacks. It wouldn't be fair to a man anyway, to make him care for her just to have her die on him while trying to save the world.

She finished her apple and tossed the core into the woods, wrapping up the cheese and tucking it back into her pack. "We better get going…" she said, pulling on her pack again, patting Argis on the shoulder. He grunted and nodded, climbing out of the stream and pulling on his boots again. He looked up at the sun, squinting his good eye, looking over at the Dragonborn. "We better hurry, looks like it might rain…" he said, following her as they headed back into the forest. He was lucky she knew the lay of the land so well, he'd never been outside of the reach.

They were tromping across the plains towards Morthal when the skies opened above them, letting down an icy deluge that managed to soak them through their armor. Ilena trudged in her dragon scale armor, her underclothes sticking to her skin beneath her armor. Rising out of the fog, she could make out the low houses of Morthal. It was a humble town, but at least it would mean and inn where they could get warm food, a big fire, warm beds, and a chance to get dry. The sun had set by the time they reached the inn, and they were both tired from the long days walk.

Ilena dropped 20 gold on the counter, but the innkeeper shook his head. "Sorry ma'am, we've only got one room available tonight, you and your companion will have to share…" he said, pushing ten of the pieces of gold back towards her. She frowned and sighed, looking over at Argis. The poor man was soaked to the bone, and she was cold as well. Now they only had one room and one bed, for two very tall people. She sighed, heading into the room to the side, dropping her pack and starting to undo the belts and holds that kept her armor on. Argis followed her in and took his pack off as well.

"Looks like tonight won't be as comfortable as we hoped…" he grumbled, closing the door behind them, starting to take off his armor. Ilena had already removed her plate mail, leggings and boots, taking off her gauntlets and setting them on the table to dry, left just in her linen shirt and trousers. Argis growled, tugging at one of the straps near his shoulder. The leather had swollen in the rain, and the strap was stuck, and he was struggling to get it with one hand. Ilena sighed and moved over to him, undoing the strap and helping him get the armor off, setting it over the back of the chair. She helped him with the rest of the straps before she pulled dry clothes out of her pack. She turned her back to her housecarl and stripped her wet shirt off, shivering before she pulled on the dry shirt.

She looked back at Argis for a moment before wiggling out of her wet pants and pulling on clean, dry ones, sighing as she wrung out her wet hair, laying her wet clothes on the table with the rest of their clothes. She went and sat on one edge of the bed, making a point of not looking as Argis changed. "You're welcome to get some food from the inn, but I think I'm going to just go to sleep…" she said, rubbing her hand over her face. Cold rain like that always seemed to drain her more than normal traveling. Sure, her Nordic blood kept her relatively warm, but after a long day, it didn't seem like enough.

Argis looked at her, a frown covering his face as he pulled straightened the hem of his linen shirt, standing up and nodding. "Alright… get some rest then… you should eat something though…" he said, patting her on the shoulder before heading out into the main hall, paying a couple coins for a bowl of stew, bread, and a mug of mead. He had to admit, he was a bit concerned about the Dragonborn. She had been very upbeat before, and at least energetic, but the cold rain seemed to have defeated her. He finished off his food, heading back to the room to see if she wanted anything, but she had fallen asleep on top of the blankets and furs, curled up in a ball, clearly trying to keep warm.

He sighed and pulled the blankets out from under her, laying them over her and tucking her in up to her chin. He smiled when he saw her visibly relax, the slight shiver easing off. She breathed out a sigh and snuggled into the bed more, Argis smiling a bit and brushing the hair out of her face gently. Hopefully she would be feeling better in the morning. He settled down on the bed beside her, blowing out the candle and laying down, trying to get comfortable without their bodies touching, which was proving to be very difficult. Any way he moved, his back would brush hers, or their legs would touch, but he didn't want to disturb her sleep.

He sighed and laid on his back, his shoulder brushing her back as he laid there and closed his eyes, praying to Akatosh that he wouldn't have any improper dreams while he was sharing a bed with his dragonborn. After such a long day, sleep came quickly, and he would take the good rest where he could get it.

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><p>Sorry for the long delay, I caught a nasty cold and had some health issues. I tried to have a nice long chapter instead of just a couple thousand words, so enjoy!<p> 


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